


A tethered mind freed from the lies

by stjarna



Series: We won't let it [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: A little angst, A little brotp, A little crack, A little sweet, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bus Kids - Freeform, Covers all major genres, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I don't actually think it has as much Angst as the tags make it look like now, Spoilers, You know A little bit of everything for good measure, a little feels, a little smut, spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Follow-up to my S5 spec ficWe Won't Let It. Contains NYCC and other spoilers but is mainly speculation. [Keeping the summary deliberately vague for those avoiding spoilers.]





	A tethered mind freed from the lies

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> Banner by me (Blessed and cursed be the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory with their extensive image gallery). Title from "I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons (because it's been so long since I named a fic after something from Mumford & Sons ;) )
> 
> Sort of fits the FitzSimmons Week Day 3 Prompt "Trust" and the "Song Day" prompt :)

 

“Still awake, Tremors?”

Daisy startles when Mack’s deep voice rips her from her thoughts. Her head shoots in his direction. She untangles one of her arms where she had them crossed over her chest and brings her index finger to her lips, mouthing a silent “Ssshhh!”

Mack furrows his brows and steps closer, turning his head to see what Daisy is staring at. One corner of his mouth ticks up and a quiet amused puff of air escapes his lips when he notices Fitzsimmons sleeping on the couch in the common area. Jemma’s lying half on top of Fitz, one palm resting on his chest, while Fitz’s hand covers it. His other arm is wrapped around Jemma’s shoulders, almost mimicking the way her leg wraps around his. Somehow Daisy can’t shake the feeling that it almost looks as if both were trying to keep the other from floating away.

“You know that’s called stalking, right?” Mack jokes, once again ripping Daisy from her thoughts.

She leans back against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes wander back to Fitzsimmons and she shrugs. “Couldn’t walk by,” she mumbles absentmindedly. “They looked so peaceful. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, they deserve that,” Mack agrees, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah.” Daisy nods, before pausing, swallowing hard and shaking her head. “Actually. No. They don’t deserve that.”

She can feel Mack’s questioning eyes on her, but Daisy can’t bring herself to take hers off her friends. “They don’t deserve being stuck in fucking space,” she whispers, so as not to wake them, “in a tin can so rusty it’ll probably fall apart any day now, with aliens trying to kill them.” She gestures at Fitzsimmons, tears clouding her vision. “They’ve been through so much crap. So much fucking crap. And yet, the fucking universe still wants to pile on more and… and it’s not fair. They _don’t_ deserve that. They deserve sleeping like that somewhere on Earth. Away from all this shit. In an apartment with hardwood floors, and a breakfast nook, and fucking double-vanity sinks and—” Her voice breaks, and she quickly wipes away her tears, before wrapping her arms protectively around herself. Her eyes briefly wander to the floor before once again finding Fitzsimmons, the tip of her shoe nervously tapping the metal floor. “They don’t deserve this whole star-crossed lover bullshit. It’s not fair. It’s not right. It’s not how their story should be.”

Daisy draws in a shaky breath, trying not to start sobbing when she feels Mack’s strong hand gently squeezing her shoulder. “They’ll be fine, Tremors. They got back to each other. They always do. Plus, they’ve got someone watching over them.”

Daisy scoffs, looking at Mack sideways, the corner of her mouth twitching briefly. “Sorry, Mack, but I’m not in the mood for one of your Jesus loves me or God Almighty speeches.”

A smile flashes across Mack’s face, and he gently pats Daisy’s shoulder, giving her a knowing look. “Wasn’t talking about them.”

Daisy’s eyes widen, her lips pulling into a weak but genuine smile. Mack lifts his head slightly. “Good night, Tremors.”

Daisy nods, turning her head further as Mack walks past her. “Night, Mack.”

She watches him leave before looking back to Fitzsimmons. The sound of Mack’s heavy footsteps on the metal floor becomes quieter and quieter. Daisy doesn’t quite know how much time has passed when a short rumble vibrates through the ship, causing the rusty metal to creak. The sound and the shaking stop as quickly as they had appeared and everything once again settles in silence, but the brief disturbance seems to have been enough to interrupt Fitzsimmons’ sleep.

Daisy notices Jemma’s eyes flicker half open, her hand moving sleepily across Fitz’s chest. She tilts her head, looking up at Fitz, whose eyes seem to open halfway as well. His arm tightens around Jemma’s shoulders, and his hand chases after Jemma’s fingers which had left their original spot under his palm. A tired smile flashes across his face, which Jemma mirrors. Fitz lowers his head until his lips brush against hers. Their kiss is languid at first—in a state between waking and sleeping—but it slowly deepens, growing in urgency and passion.

Daisy takes a step back, lowering her eyes. She suddenly realizes she’s intruding on an incredibly serene and intimate moment. She looks back up when a sudden movement catches her attention. Her brow furrows in confusion, watching Fitz scramble up from the couch as a concerned Jemma calls out his name. His breathing is heavy, and he spins around, covering his mouth with the back of his clenched fist. He rushes away from Jemma, before falling to his knees, resting his weight on his arms as vomit gushes onto the floor in front of him.

Daisy takes half a step forward, but stops herself when Jemma rushes to Fitz’s side. She places her hand on his back, but he flinches, shaking it off. Jemma sits back on her heels, closing her eyes shut, her face distorted as she tries to hold back tears, while Fitz’s body begins to shake with sobs.

Daisy is filled with rage, confusion, sadness, too many emotions to count. She’s not sure what is going on, but seeing her friends go from loving and intimate to broken and crying shatters her heart into pieces.

_It’s not fair. It’s not right._

“Fitz,” Jemma whispers, her concerned eyes fixed on Fitz, and Daisy screams in her head for Fitz to do something.

A wave of relief washes over her when Fitz extends a trembling hand in Jemma’s direction, searching without looking until his fingers find Jemma’s forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, barely audibly, and a pained smile flashes across Jemma’s face.

She covers his hand with hers, her thumb reassuringly gliding across his knuckles. “It’s alright, Fitz. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” he replies quietly, defeat in his tone.

“It will be,” Jemma counters, softly but firmly.

Fitz’s head turns slightly, and Jemma’s lips pull into a gentle smile.

“I’m right here,” she says, calmly. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re together. We’ll get through this. We’ll come out the other end even stronger.”

Fitz nods barely noticeably, and Daisy can’t shake the feeling she’s just overheard a mantra, a vow her two friends had composed for themselves.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Jemma remarks, squeezing Fitz’s hand before pushing herself up to standing. She walks quickly to the kitchen area and fills a glass with water, while Fitz remains motionless, his shoulders slightly slumped forward, but his eyes following Jemma’s every move.

Jemma kneels back down next to Fitz, an empty bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “There you go.” She stretches out both hands, smiling encouragingly. “Rinse first and then drink a few sips. I’ll get something to clean up the floor.”

She gets back up, heading back to the kitchen and returning with a few rags moments later. “Why don’t you go and freshen up? Change?” She gestures at the puddle of vomit in front of Fitz’s knees. “I’ll do this.”

Fitz shakes his head. “Jemma, no, I—”

“I don’t mind. Really.” She smiles down at where he’s still kneeling on the floor. “Get ready for bed. I’ll be in our bunk soon. It’s so late.”

Fitz nods weakly and pushes himself up to standing. With a hint of hesitation, he reaches for Jemma’s arm, squeezing it gently. “I love you,” he whispers. “Only you.”

Jemma’s lips tick up. She presses her palm against his cheek, leaning up to briefly kiss the corner of his mouth. Her thumb glides across his cheek, and she gazes directly at him. “I love you, too, Fitz.”

Fitz sighs, before turning around to head to the bathrooms. He freezes, his eyes widening in shock when he notices Daisy.

Daisy stands rooted to the spot, both her friends now staring at her wide-eyed. Caught in the act, she doesn’t know what to say, do, think. Then Fitz’s gaze drops to the floor, and he walks towards her, his eyes briefly catching hers in passing before he heads down the hallway with fast, fleeing steps.

Daisy looks after him for a moment, before turning back to face Jemma. Her friend no longer wears her shocked expression. Instead, her shoulders are slumped, her eyes almost pleading, asking for a friend to confide in.

“I didn’t mean to spy,” Daisy admits quietly, taking a step into the common area. “You two had fallen asleep and it was… mesmerizing or something.”

Jemma’s lips twitch briefly, before she shakes her head. “Don’t worry.”

Daisy walks close, gesturing with her head in the direction of the puddle of bile on the floor. “What was that?”

Jemma grimaces, biting her lower lip. “Fitz… Everytime we… whenever we…. whenever things get—” She exhales a sharp breath, shrugging in a mix of defeat and befuddlement. “Whenever things get more… well… intimate between us, then—” Her voice breaks off and she blinks away tears, gesturing silently to the contents of Fitz’s stomach.

“He gets sick?” Daisy asks in disbelief.

Jemma presses her lips together, nodding with tears in her eyes. “Not always to this extent, but yes.” She sniffles, trying to find her composure. “He suddenly remembers how much he hated me… _there_ , because… because of what I did to the love of his life, his father, their world. And he remembers AIDA… Ophelia and what she… what they… how it felt when he was… when he did—” Once again, a shuddery breath escapes her. “He feels used and yet guilty and—” A pained smile flashes across her face and she shrugs. “At least he talks about it. And I know we can get through it and… and it’s been barely any time and… but he… he’s so—”

“—hard on himself?”

Jemma nods.

Daisy bites her lower lip, her eyes wandering to the ground, before hesitantly looking back up. “Think it would help him to talk to someone who knows a thing or two about what it’s like to wake up from a nightmare they didn’t want to be a part of, in which they hurt everyone they cared about—someone who knows what it’s like to feel used?”

Jemma’s lips tick up into a weak smile. “I think it might.”

* * *

Fitz clutches the sink, his head hanging low. His entire body seems tense, his arms shaking slightly. His breathing is heavy but slow, as if he were trying to force himself to calm down.

Daisy leans against the entrance to the community bathroom. “You look like you’re trying to rip that thing out of the wall.”

Fitz’s head shoots in her direction. He stares at her wide-eyed, his knuckles still white from gripping the sink. There’s fear in his expression, anger, despair, and for a moment, Daisy wonders if he’ll choose fight or flight. Then, he exhales sharply, his gaze dropping back to the sink and his body seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, well, I promised Jemma I wouldn’t punch the mirror again,” he replies drily.

Daisy’s eyes widen, and she gestures at the spot on the large mirror where shattered pieces radiate outward from the center of impact. “That was _you_?”

Fitz looks back at her, scoffing and raising his right fist, which is wrapped in bandages. “How’d you think _that_ happened?”

Daisy pushes herself off the wall, taking a step inside. She’s not sure how to respond, so a change of topic seems her best option. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have—You guys just looked so peaceful sleeping side by side. And then when you—I couldn’t leave somehow. I felt like I should help, but at the same time I didn’t know how, and so I just stood there like an idiot watching you guys and… I’m sorry.”

Fitz lets go of the sink, turning slightly to face Daisy more directly. He shrugs, shaking his head slightly. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in silence, until Fitz swallows hard, his eyes shimmering behind a thin curtain of tears. “Did Jemma send you?” he asks quietly, and Daisy can’t stop the corner of her mouth from ticking up.

“Yes and no. I suggested it. She thought it might help.”

Fitz presses his lips together, nodding slightly, his gaze wandering to the floor.

“I know what Hive did to me wasn’t quite the same, Fitz,” Daisy remarks, her tone quiet as she takes another step closer. “It was fucked up but it wasn’t sexual. So I don’t know what _that_ part of what you’re going through feels like. ‘Cause even though I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, I’ve somehow managed to avoid sexual abuse.”

His eyes close, and a pained grimace flashes across his face, as if putting a label on what happened to him was like a branding iron burning itself into his flesh. For a moment Daisy wonders if she should stop, if maybe he’s not ready for that conversation yet. But then, he hasn’t told her to stop, hasn’t told her to leave.

“But I think I understand a lot of the other parts,” Daisy continues, encouraged by his silence. “Remembering doing things, because you were under someone’s spell, that you didn’t think you were capable of; hurting the people you care about, the people you _love_. That guilt you feel because you remember how in that moment you wanted to do all those things and it made you feel good. That guilt you feel, because somehow you think you should have been stronger, you should have been able to see it, fight it, beat it. Those are things I know. And I know how much they suck. How much they fucking hurt.”

Daisy’s eyes well up, but she pushes her tears down, ignores her own hurt, which digs itself out of its grave to stab her heart once again as she recounts her own story that mirrors Fitz’s in so many ways. “I know what it feels like to be sick to your stomach, looking at the people you love, because whenever you see them, you relive it all over again. And you don’t understand why they still want to be close to you. You think you don’t deserve their forgiveness.”

She gestures at herself, keeping her eyes fixed on Fitz, who keeps looking down to the floor, only briefly glancing in her direction. “I know what it’s like to feel sick to your stomach, feel scared shitless, because someone you hurt, someone you almost killed, still wants you around, wants to hold you, be your friend, be your lover. I know what that’s like, Fitz. When I was under Hive’s spell, I hurt every fucking person I cared about—you, Coulson, Mack, Lincoln… _everyone_! And I felt sick. I felt guilty. I hated myself. And I wish there was an easy solution to it, Fitz, but there’s only time. Time and accepting that—whether you think you deserve it or not—those people around you, really and truly still want you around. They want you around and they forgive you even when there’s nothing to forgive, and in Jemma’s case, saying that she wants you around is a fucking understatement.”

He nods ever so slightly, his eyes darting up before dropping back to the floor. “Yeah… yeah, I know. I… I know all that… in theory.”

Daisy chuckles weakly. “Yeah, practice’s a bitch.”

Fitz scoffs, looking at Daisy more directly. “I know she still loves me. I know she wants to be with me. I know we need time. _I_ need time. _She_ does too. I know it’s been less than a month. I know that AIDA manipulated me. I know that that person… that he… that wasn’t me.” He gestures at himself, pressing his fingers into his chest. “He’s _in_ me. He’s a possibility. But… but he’s not me and I’m not him. I don’t choose to be that person.”

Fitz draws in a shaky breath, lifting his shoulders. “And… and I know that even though I _remember_ truly loving Ophelia, I also know that that wasn’t consent. It wasn’t.” He sighs, exhaling sharply, as if he’d truly heard those words for the very first time. “And I shouldn’t feel guilty for it. I… I know these things, and yet—”

He stops, a pained laugh escaping his lips as he shakes his head. “I hate her for what she did. AIDA. Ophelia. I hate what she did to me. To us. All of us. And yet… and yet, I can’t be mad at her, because… because she was so clueless. She didn’t… she didn’t understand. She couldn’t. She tried to mimic what she saw. She wanted to have it, but she didn’t understand its complexity and so—” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I hate her, but I can’t be mad at her. I pity her. I—” He shakes his head, lost for words.

“Hive was similar,” Daisy remarks. “He really and truly believed that what he was doing would be the best for humans and inhumans alike. But, I mean, doesn’t change the fact that he was batshit crazy. Just like AIDA was fucking nuts by the end. Good intentions or not… that was some fucked up evil shit, and—”

“You know what?” Fitz interrupts her. “It doesn’t matter. Because whether I love her, or hate her, or pity her, whether she thought she did the right thing or whether she’d gone completely bonkers from that bloody book, it doesn’t change the fact that those memories haunt me and… and interfere with—” He pauses, breathing heavily, gesturing towards the hallway. “Jemma deserves more. She… I love her! I love her and I want to _show_ her how much I love her, how I want her and—”

“You do, Fitz!” Daisy exclaims, maybe louder than strictly necessary. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I love sex. Big fan of sex. But it’s just _one_ aspect of a good relationship. And when it comes down to it, definitely not one of the most important ones.”

Daisy takes a deep breath, before walking over to Fitz, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You show Jemma that you love her every day, Fitz! You fought to come back to her. Again, and again, and again! You’re accepting her help. She said you open up to her. Do you realize how much that means to her? That you’re willing to talk things through, to work things through, to not give up on what you guys have? _That_ —I guarantee you—means a hell of a lot more to her than doing the deed.”

His lower lip quivers, his eyes tear-rimmed and filled with desperation. He gestures at himself, but it seems as if he barely has the strength to lift his arm. “But I want to, Daisy! I love her. I want her. Every cell in my body longs to be with her… be with her that way again, because, yeah, maybe it’s not the most important thing, but it’s—it’s not just sex. It’s love, with body and soul and… intimacy. I… I want to show her… I want to—”

“But you can’t force that, Fitz,” Daisy counters, barely able to keep her own tears in check, her hand still gently squeezing his shoulder. “Give it time. You will know when the time is right again. When you’re ready for it again. And believe me, Jemma’s not going anywhere. Whether you have sex tomorrow, or ten years from now, or never again—”

His head drops back and he scoffs briefly. “God, don’t say never again.”

Daisy can’t help but chuckle weakly. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll be there. She loves you, Fitz. She will always love you. She’ll be patient. But _you_ have to be patient, too!”

He nods, sighing deeply and chewing his lower lip. “I’ll try.”

Daisy presses her lips together, bopping her head in acknowledgement and letting go of Fitz’s shoulder. “Alright.”

A faint, shy smile flashes across Fitz’s face, and the “Thanks” he whispers is barely audible.

One corner of Daisy’s mouth ticks up and she lifts her chin in his direction. “Anytime. I mean that.”

* * *

“Fuck.” Fitz switches out two cables, his eyes laser-focused on the device in front of him, his heavy gloves not making the task any easier. He barely takes note of the blaring alert echoing through the ship and the flashing red light. He ignores the hull breach sucking whatever oxygen is left in the room into the vastness of space. He inhales deeply, his exhale slightly fogging up the visor of the spacesuit that looks like it’s seen better times.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he mumbles to himself, adjusting more of the cables, but nothing happens. He turns his head briefly, seeing his teammates through the glass sliding-door, protected from the vacuum that fills the loading dock where he is. Jemma’s hands are pressed against the window, her eyes wide, panicked and pleading. He can see her pained expression, how desperately she’s holding back tears.

Fitz lets out a growl, turning back to the improvised device he had rigged to try and create a force field to seal the hull. Once again, he checks all the cables. They’re in the right place. They’re not loose. But the ancient and mediocre materials he had to work with, the half-drained battery still don’t want to spring into action.

“Fuck. Shite. Fucking fuck shit bollocks fuck,” he grunts in frustration, slamming his hand against the device repeatedly in a final desperate attempt to get the damn thing to work.

Suddenly the power lights flicker on and the force field builds up, growing larger until the breach in the hull is entirely sealed.

Fitz stares at his contraption with a strange mix of disbelief, relief, and pride. He looks up reflexively when the red flashing lights suddenly turn off and the blaring sound of the alarm falls silent, leaving nothing but a faint high-pitched ringing in Fitz’s ears. It’s only then that the weight Fitz had carried drops off his shoulders. He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath as all adrenaline rushes out of his body.

Once his breathing has steadied, he straightens up, looking to the sliding door, where the others are still waiting. He exhales sharply, pulling off his helmet, and slowly walks to the door. He can barely lift his hand high enough to push the button to open the door, sudden exhaustion draining whatever energy he had left. The door slides open, and as soon as he has taken one step into the hallway, Jemma’s arms wrap around his neck and she presses her body flush against his. Fitz drops his helmet, pulling her even closer, inhaling her scent and for a moment ignoring everyone else around them.

“Good job, Fitz.”

Reluctantly, Fitz lets go of Jemma with one arm, while keeping the other wrapped around her waist. Jemma steps a little to the side, allowing Fitz to see the others, but her left hand continues to massage Fitz’s sweaty neck. Fitz looks up at Coulson, a faint smile flashing across his face. “Thank you, sir. But it’s a temporary fix. That battery’s not gonna last long.”

Coulson nods in understanding. “Can you make it a permanent fix?”

Fitz bobs his head. “Yeah. Just need to gather the right supplies and tools.” He lifts his head in Mack’s direction. “And a little help couldn’t hurt.”

“You got it, Turbo.”

“Excellent,” Coulson remarks. “I wish I could give you a break, after all the life-and-death excitement just now, but I’m afraid—”

Fitz nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks.” Coulson slaps Fitz on the shoulder, before walking past him down the hallway, the others following suit until only Mack and Jemma are left. A weak smile flashes across Jemma’s lips. She cups Fitz’s face, pulling him closer for a soft kiss. She looks deep into his eyes, her thumbs gently gliding across his cheeks.

“You be careful,” she whispers, and Fitz can’t help but smile, nodding in agreement, before leaning down for one more kiss.

* * *

Fitz watches Jemma for a moment. She’s working in concentration as usual. Task at hand. Nothing else matters. Her hair falls forward as she leans over the microscope, and as always, she pushes it behind her ear, without ever losing focus. He’s known these same mannerisms for more than ten years, and Fitz can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he remarks, quietly, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking a step into the lab.

Jemma spins around, not really startled but rather excited it seems, as a wide smile brightens her face.

“Hey,” she replies, her tone chipper. “That was fast.”

Fitz nods, tucking his hands in his pockets and walking a little closer. “Yeah. Wasn’t that hard once we had the right supplies. Deke even chipped in a little.” He gestures with his chin towards the microscope. “How’s your research going?”

Jemma tilts her head side to side. “So far so good. The samples look promising. But I think I will have to call it a night. It’s our turn to make dinner and we better get started soon.”

“Right,” Fitz mutters absentmindedly, continuing on his path towards her.

He stops in front of her, his eyes wandering from her face, down to where her hand is resting on the smooth surface of the lab bench. He reaches forward, wrapping his fingers around her hand. He tugs on her hand, taking one step to the side, slightly away from the microscope, encouraging her to come along. She looks at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. Fitz tucks her hair behind her ear with his free hand, studying her face, feeling an almost electric sensation where his fingers barely touch her skin.

A hint of a smile appears on her lips as she gazes into his eyes. “What?” she asks, and Fitz notices her blush.

He swallows, ignoring the mist of tears clouding his vision, focusing instead on what his heart, his body, his soul are telling him.

“I want you,” he whispers, and he can’t remember the last time his voice sounded quite so raspy.

Her eyes widen, and Fitz notices her chest rising and falling quicker than just a moment ago. Fitz’s gaze wanders to her lips, before searching her eyes again. He sees nothing but longing and love, and when Jemma’s hands slowly glide up his chest, her fingers curling around the back of his neck, Fitz closes the narrow gap between their lips, kissing her softly but deeply. A soft moan escapes her lips, sending a wave of heat through Fitz’s body. He gently pushes her backwards until her bum hits the workbench. Her fingers comb through his hair and he feels her pulling him closer.

Fitz deepens the kiss, letting their tongues dance, as his fingers search for the buttons of her blouse, opening them one by one. He cups her breasts, his thumb gliding across the soft fabric of her bra, feeling her erect nipple beneath his touch. His hands glide lower, and he unbuttons her trousers, zipping them open, while their lips continue their passionate dance. Jemma bucks her hips when he slides his hand into her underpants.

Fitz draws in a sharp breath, feeling her wetness as he carefully dips one finger into her opening, while his thumb searches her clit. Jemma’s grip on the back of his skull tightens, her head dropping back. Her breathing turns into fast little gasps, as Fitz’s lips move from her mouth to her neck, sucking fervently on her pulse point, his fingers working inside her.

The angle is awkward and his wrist begins to ache, but the sounds his touch, his kisses, his presence conjure from her lips, the way his body responds to her pleasure, drives Fitz further on. He can’t help but smile when he feels Jemma clench around his fingers, when she cries out his name, her body falling forward as her arms wrap around his neck and she rests her head against his shoulder, catching her breath. Almost reluctantly, Fitz pulls his hand out of Jemma’s pants, sliding both his hands around her waist instead, pulling her closer.

“Oh,” Jemma exhales a contented and breathless sigh, before her body begins to shake with the onset of laughter. “Oh, I missed this.”

She pushes herself back slightly, to look at Fitz, her lips pulled into a beaming smile. Once again, a wave of laughter rushes through her, which conjures a smile to Fitz’s lips as well.

“Oh, what a terrible thing to say, isn’t it?” she asks, with a sense of embarrassment. “It’s not like—”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Fitz interjects, tucking a strand of hair behind Jemma’s ear. “I know what you mean. I missed it too. Although admittedly, we never did this at the lab. ‘It wouldn’t be sanitary, Fitz! A tidy lab is a happy lab, Fitz!’”

Jemma laughs out loud, playfully slapping Fitz’s chest. “I sound nothing like that. And nothing in this filthy ship is sanitary or tidy. So. Who cares?”

Fitz laughs, before leaning in to seal Jemma’s lips with his. The kiss is not as heated, but just as deep and longing.

Jemma’s expression is far more serious than Fitz expected when she breaks the kiss. She cups his face, her worrying eyes searching his. “Did it—Did you—Did it feel good for you, too?” she asks, full of concern.

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticks up and, filled with a new wave of confidence, he takes one of Jemma’s hands, leading it to his crotch.

Jemma raises her eyebrows, noticeably impressed. She presses her palm a bit more firmly against his erection.

“Should I reciprocate?” she asks, her voice husky, her eyes sparkling suggestively. “Because I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Fitz chuckles briefly, before bringing her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “Not now.” He gazes into her eyes for a long moment, a smile playing on his lips. “But the night’s still young.”

Jemma scrunches her nose, seemingly pleased with his reply. She leans closer, kissing him once more.

“Why now?” she asks, her tone both somber and curious. “What changed?”

Fitz shrugs. “It was a close call today with the hull breach. And I saw you standing at that door, tears in your eyes. And I thought, ‘She’ll be the last thing you’ll see.’”

A pained grimace flashes across Jemma’s face and her fingers comb through his hair, grab the back of his skull with desperation, fear, pain.

Fitz reaches up, wiping away a single tear that rolls down her cheek, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a weak smile. “Admittedly, that wasn’t such a bad thought, but… but I also thought of all the things still left unsaid, left undone. And when it was over and I could hold you again, smell you, touch you, hear you, I thought how unimportant so many other things are. And then, when I was fixing the hull with Mack—” He shrugs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “Dunno. Suddenly everything fell into place, and I knew… I knew those memories wouldn’t haunt me anymore, not like that. They won’t stop me. They won’t stop me from being with you. Really and truly being with you. Every facet of our relationship. Every smile. Every word. Every touch.”

Jemma smiles, her eyes still shimmering behind a curtain of tears. She kisses him, with passion and love and longing, before once again holding his face in her palms. “I love you, Fitz.”

His eyes beam with a happiness that had been missing for far too long. “I love you, too, Jemma. I always will. And maybe today won’t solve everything. And maybe we still have long ways to go. And maybe our road won’t all be sunshine and rainbows, but… but today has _definitely_ turned into a sunshine and rainbow day, and I’m gonna say screw it to anything negative that tries to peek through the door today. Today, tonight, as long as we’re together, I’m gonna be happy.”

She lets out a laugh, which rings like a beautiful song in his ears. “That sounds like a wonderful plan.”

He sighs deeply, pushing her hair behind both ears and cupping her face, gazing into her eyes as if he were trying to drink her in, and for a moment they get lost in each other’s souls.

* * *

“Oh, hell no.”

Jemma looks up from where she’s stirring the sauce when Mack’s disgruntled groan echoes through the common area.

Daisy triumphantly lifts the bishop she’d captured from Mack in the air, before adding it to the pile of chess pieces she’d already taken from him. Deke is sitting next to her, one leg pulled up onto the bench, his expression a mix of boredom and condescension.

Elena is standing behind Mack’s chair, hugging him loosely from behind. She leans closer, smiling mischievously. “¡Te lo dije! Why do you not listen to me, Turtleman?”

Mack turns his head slightly, glaring at Elena in silent disapproval, but she disarms him with a sly grin and soft kiss.

Mack scoffs, before looking back at Daisy, lifting his chin briefly. “Alright, Tremors, my turn!”

Jemma exchanges a brief knowing look with Fitz, before returning her attention to the sauce in front of her. She stirs it a few more times, then lifts the wooden spoon out of the pan, holding one hand below it to catch any drippings. She turns slightly to where Fitz is pulling plates from the kitchen shelf. “Could you taste this?”

A smile flashes across Fitz’s face and he leans closer, plates in hand. Carefully, he brings his lips to the piping hot sauce and slurps some of it into his mouth. He contemplates for a moment before nodding. “’t’s good.”

“Bit more pepper?” Jemma asks, unable to keep from smiling.

Fitz purses his lips, bopping his head in agreement. “Maybe a wee bit. But not too much. It’s really good.”

Jemma’s lips pull into an even wider smile, and for a moment she forgets the world around them, gazing into Fitz’s eyes that sparkle with happiness and a hint of mischief.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Coulson asks loudly, rubbing his hands together as he and May walk into the common area, causing both Fitz and Jemma to look in their direction.

Daisy looks up from her chess game as well, speaking before Jemma or Fitz can reply to Coulson’s question. “Well, they’re making some kind of pasta dish.”

Coulson bops his head contentedly, and Jemma returns her attention to her sauce, when Daisy suddenly speaks up again. “But judging by what I heard in the lab earlier, they had dessert without us.”

The entire room seems to come to a sudden and screeching halt, like a record that’s been stopped mid-song.

“What?” Coulson mutters in mild confusion, whereas Jemma drops the spoon into the saucepan in shock, exclaiming a rather high-pitched “Daisy!”

“I did not need to know that.” Mack grimaces slightly in obvious discomfort, while Elena behind him grins one-sidedly in Jemma’s and Fitz’s direction, teasingly remarking “I did.”

“Dude!” Daisy raises her hands in defense, looking at Mack, before gesturing at Fitzsimmons. “It’s not my fault if those two forget that the lab doesn’t actually have a functioning door.” She points at herself. “I mean, _I_ was just headed for the common area, minding my own business.”

“Daisy!” Jemma’s eyes widen and she tries to ignore the sounds of suppressed giggles coming from at least two if not more people in the room. _May? Did I just hear May giggle?_

Daisy ticks her head innocently to one side, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s not like I looked, Simmons, but those sounds were more than telling. I mean, I’m happy for you two, but if you don’t want the whole ship to get a free porn channel, stick to your bunk next time.”

This time Jemma hears everyone but Mack burst into laughter, while she stares at her friend wide-eyed, feeling her cheeks blush. “Daisy Johnson, I cannot believe—and… well, it’s really—”

“My fault,” Fitz suddenly interrupts her, his arms wrapping around Jemma’s waist. Surprised, Jemma looks up at him, and almost reflexively, her lips pull into a smile at the way he gazes back at her.

“It was my fault,” Fitz repeats, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a half grin. “I take full responsibility for what you heard, Daisy.” He turns his head slightly to look at Daisy, before immediately returning his gaze to Jemma. “And I really, really have no regrets.”

Jemma’s cheeks feel burning hot, heat radiating into other parts of her body as well. Her eyes briefly dart in the direction of their friends. “Fitz,” she chuckles, surprised by his unusual forwardness in front of everyone else.

A slightly startled “Oh” escapes her lips, when Fitz tugs her even closer, leaning down to kiss her far more deeply and passionately than she’d expected, and yet the exciting tingle rushing through her body is far too pleasant to care about their present company.

Jemma half-expects a smug expression when Fitz breaks the kiss, leaving her slightly breathless, but instead she is met with nothing but love and adoration. She bathes in his eyes, until Daisy’s voice pulls Jemma back into reality.

“Okay, before you guys start grabbing second dessert right here on the kitchen counter, can the rest of us have dinner first?”

Fitz turns his head slightly, his grin pulling ear to ear, and his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I make no such promises,” he remarks drily.

Jemma can’t help but laugh, slapping Fitz gently on his chest. “Fitz.”

Fitz looks back at her, a smile lingering in his expression, before he once again closes the gap between them. Jemma closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling of Fitz’s soft lips on hers. Somewhere in the distance, her ears pick up Deke’s voice, nothing more than a faint echo.

“Are they always this openly horny?”

“No,” Daisy replies. “But it’s a good look for them.”


End file.
